


The Rose of Imruk

by Rosriel



Series: A Tribute from Imruk [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Dubious Consent, Familial Abuse, Forced Pregnancy, Gaslighting, Incest, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Public Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28572366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosriel/pseuds/Rosriel
Summary: "When I behaved as he wanted everything was roses. The thorns came out later."That was what Finne had confessed to Aleci. But that was not all.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: A Tribute from Imruk [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072850
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	The Rose of Imruk

**Author's Note:**

> Huge warning that unlike my other one shots this isn't a happy story.

His father’s wife had never wanted him to call her mother, so that was what Finne thought of here as. For as long as he remembered she was cold and distant to him and glared daggers if he dared played with her children. He could count on one hand the times they spent together as a family, and he could vividly recall the last time he tried calling her _mamaí_.

Grena had smiled and asked him if he’d like to hear a story that night, just her, him and Ethach, a special story, his father’s wife insisted, smiling kindly. He agreed, his younger self always loved stories, he loved drawing them afterwards, bringing them to life. The story Grena told him was one he never wished to draw.

“Chief Conomor married the beautiful Triphine. She had the loveliest green eyes and flowing brown hair. He won her, over all her other suitors, even though his hair was grey and his face lined. He took her to a tall tower, and she had everything she ever wanted, and the only thing she could not do was open the chest in his bedroom. But every night that she stayed there she heard voices, voices of women telling her to open the chest. They told her to see for herself that her husband wasn’t as he was, and she would know only if she opened the chest.” Grena had smiled then, showing too many teeth, and leaning in to take Finne's cheek into her hand, “And so the foolish girl opened the chest and what did she see but the heads of all of Conomor’s wives. So she fled from the tower, fearful for her life and that of her unborn child. But Conomor found her and took her head back as another memento for his chest.”

“She should have listened to him.” Ethach said afterwards, “She shouldn’t have opened the door.” he looked at Finne, concern in his eyes, “Are you alright?”

“He didn’t have to kill her.” said Finne, shakily, still picturing Triphine’s rolling head in his mind.

“Well,” Ethach shrugged, “She would have been happy not knowing. It’s her fault. She chose to open the door, no one forced her hand.”

That was a thing Ethach liked, the choices one could make. It was what he told Finne when he begged for the ceremony to start and the doors to the room were finally opened.

“You can be happy.” said Ethach, “You can be happy with me or,” he smiled, stroking Finne’s dirt streaked cheek, “unhappy with others. Many others. There are many on my mother’s family that would have you. Or if they don’t, maybe our father’s side of the family. I won’t let anyone else touch you. I promise. It’s your choice, you have the freedom to choose.”

It wasn’t, as Finne found out, much of a choice or freedom at all.

He was trapped, as Triphine was, and she only had the one rule to follow.

_It meant his things were no longer his own._

The last thing his father had given him, upon finding out his status, was his dead mother’s ring, made to fit him.

Ethach had held it up to the light before shrugging and tossing it out the window and into the rose garden below.

“Why do you need it?” he said, before Finne’s sluggish mind could react, “Everyone knows you’re married to me. Everyone knows you’re mine.”

At his father’s later questioning, Finne had then said that he had lost it, and the disappointment never faded from the older man’s eyes. His father never looked at him for long after that. The doors to his mother’s gardens were locked, and there was no possible way for Finne to sneak out undetected to recover the ring, if it was even possible.

_It held his tongue._

“You’re a wife.” said Ethach, “Why do you not talk like one?”

Finne blinked at him, confused, “But I do.” he said.

“No.” said Ethach, “Are you stupid? Don’t you notice? There is a difference. You should speak the way my mother does. You’re a wife. Not a husband, not a man”, Ethach laughs softly, his hand crept between Finne’s legs, dry fingers breaching him and scissoring, “not with a cunt as tight as yours.”

_It soured the honey in his mouth._

“Did you not like the food I sent for you?” said Ethach, frowning at Finne’s untouched plate, “Sit on my lap.” it was not a request, “You should eat something, shouldn’t you? For the baby.”

He had sat, shakily, on Ethach’s lap as his brother fed him the honeyed fruits and sweetmeats. He could feel Ethach’s cock stiffen against him, Ethach’s fingers lingering in his mouth.

“Suck on it.” Ethach whispered, pushing his fingers in and out of Finne’s mouth, “That’s it, just like that.”

He should have known what would happen, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Why are you so shy?” said Ethach, undoing Finne’s belt, “You’ve bared yourself before, when you were a man, what’s the difference now?”

Ethach must have seen Finne’s gaze flicker towards the door to their quarters and he laughed heartily, tossing the belt to the ground. The embroidered tunic followed, and Ethach made short work of the ties on Finne’s underclothes. He ran a hand appreciatively up and down Finne’s body, hands lingering on Finne’s breasts as Finne sat there shivering, feeling goosebumps where the cold air hit his skin.

“Please lock the door Ethach, please.” he pleaded.

“Darling, wouldn’t you want them to know that you’re doing your duty by me?” he mouthed at Finne’s right nipple, squeezing the budding breasts hard enough to bruise, “Don’t you want me?” he smiled again, stroking Finne’s cheek, “Or do you want others? I could call them in you know. I’ve seen how they look at you-” a kiss, and Ethach’s hand came down to grip at Finne’s caged cock.

“No.” said Finne, biting back a sob as the saliva coated fingers entered him, “No, I want you Ethach,” they twisted, painfully, and his eyes prickled with tears, “please, Ethach, I do, I do want you.” Please stop, he wanted to say, but when had Ethach stopped when he asked or begged?

He was laid down on the table, facing the unlocked door, his legs spread wide as Ethach fucked him from behind. His fingers fumbled uselessly for a grip at the table’s edge, it was as if Ethach wanted to fuck him off the table with every thrust. It was better when he was lying on the bed, Finne thought wildly, at least everyone knew what was going on then. Everyone knew their place.

Triphine had tried to run away, hadn’t she? But he wasn’t Triphine, alone in a tower, he was Finne, guarded and watched Ethach’s prized, sweet little huntress. Of course, Triphine didn’t even survive her escape did she? Conomor had beheaded her and left her body for the carrions. She was revived by the hero Gildas. He was allowed to read at least, in Ethach’s study, and that was how he found out the story’s entirety. It didn’t comfort him. Why was it that everyone needed rescuing and reviving in these stories? Why couldn’t it be that Triphine lived because she thought for herself?

“The problem with you, Finne, is that you think too much. Why so grim? Do you want to be happy with me?” Ethach smiled, softly, “Happiness, darling, is a choice. You can choose to be happy.”

So he did just that, smiling and playing along to the increasingly complicated list of demands. He could only wear such colors, wear a tunic of such length, put his hair in such style. He was to walk a certain way, ride a certain way or not at all, and smile and nod a certain way.

And when he succeeded, it was wonderful. They were like brothers, as before, and Ethach would ask him to read out loud to him, running a hand through Finne’s hair. They would race through the woods together, even going on a hunt. Everyone said Ethach was handsome and brave, and every woman had wanted to be his bride.

“Aren’t you lucky then?” said Ethach, sitting on his chair in the study, eyes reflecting the fire dancing in the fireplace, “That you’re mine, and no one else’s?”

Finne, kneeling in front of him and choking on the cock shoved in his throat, was unable to answer.

He hated the study, yet wanted to go there all the same, that was the only place where he could read while his brother looked over Imruk’s affairs. Ethach even asked him for advice, on occasion, and it felt like they were brothers again. But he could only enter it on such and such date, at such and such time, and if he did so too early, or too late then it was his fault, wasn’t it, that he didn’t care for Ethach’s concerns and Imruk’s problems. What usually followed that rant was him kneeling under the desk, Ethach’s cock in his mouth and eventually down his throat.

“They cut the carriers in the Capital, you know.” said Ethach, conversationally one day when he pulled out, wiping himself clean on Finne’s tunic, “It may be a fashion here eventually, would you like that?” he laughed at Finne’s silent horror, “Don’t worry, I won’t do it,” he reached out to pinch Finne’s nipples with both hands, “but perhaps you’d like to wear rings here? I’m told it makes things better for you during sex. I’m sorry you don’t like it much.”

That didn’t stop him from requesting Finne’s presence in his quarters. He dreaded going to his brother’s quarters. Everyone knew why he was there, and, as Ethach pointed out, they would also be more than happy to have him, if Ethach allowed it. But why would he allowed it, Ethach didn’t want bastards, and he didn’t want any man’s hand, other than himself, on Finne, he had said so himself. Why would he allow that? Why would he want to see more of Finne’s humiliation?

He was right on the former but wrong on the latter. Edon’s birth changed nothing. Even his name, a peace offering of sorts, a homage to their happy childhood was simply shrugged away.

“You could’ve just named him Ethach.” said Ethach, giving his newborn son a dispassionate look, “I’ll name him the same when he’s older. Unless we have more that is. Stronger than this one, maybe?” the later was laughingly said, and the carriers surrounding Finne, those that had helped in the delivery, tittered. 

Finne swallowed the panic and terror then but paced in his rooms afterwards, over and over again, ignoring the pain between his legs. He should have been happy, he was supposed to be happy, Edon is a bright and lovely baby, red cheeked and cooing. His son didn't even cry as often as babies were supposed to cry, but what did Finne knew of such things. He knew nothing, Ethach had made it clear. Now he dreaded another child, another pawn Ethach would hold over him. But Ethach would wait for him to recover, wouldn't he? He did, one of the kindnesses the older carriers were pleased to remind Finne of, but that didn’t stop him from summoning Finne to his study with Edon.

“Take off your tunic.” Ethach said.

“My… tunic?” said Finne, confused, seeing the guards surrounding Ethach,“What do you mean?”

“They-” Ethach waved a bored hand around the room, “commented that I didn’t ask for a wet nurse. I told them you were perfectly capable. Why don’t you show them, darling?” he leaned closer to whisper in Finne’s ear, “Show them, or I’ll send for a wet nurse myself and you can move back into my quarters. Permanently.” he smiled again, stroking Edon’s cheek, “The women of Llandy are perfectly capable of looking after my son.”

_It froze his face into a mask._

His left hand shook as he undid the ties on his tunic, his right arm cradling Edon. It shook even more as he let the breast band fall to the ground. Ethach gave him a bored look.

“Come, sit.” he said, gesturing towards his lap.

Their audience felt like carrions waiting patiently for a deer's last gasping breath. He held Edon to his breast, praying that Edon would wake and latch, praying that it didn’t spiral, as it usually did, with Ethach fucking him. Whatever God or Goddess that was listening was merciful, for Edon, usually a deep sleeper, stirred, his lips latching on to Finne’s breast. He heard a soft gurgle of contentment from his son, and Finne let out a breath he was holding all along.

“I told you.” said Ethach, to his guards, “My darling makes for a sweet wife.” his other hand squeezed at Finne’s free breast, catching a droplet of milk and bringing it to his mouth, “And he tastes sweet as well.”

_It broke him._

"You best pray," Ethach snarled into Finne's ear as he fucked him, "That I live. Father'll stay as he is, the Empire likes their little puppet leaders, but he's too stupid to know that. But whatever chief that comes after him won't be so kind. If they're nice they'll let you poison Edon and yourself. If they're not-" Ethach smiled, "pray that I come back."

He cleaned himself off and left Finne lying bloody and shaking on the bed.

There would be no Gildas, no shining hero come riding from the woods to restore him. There was only the banner of the Empire come to burn Imruk to the ground and salt its fields. And may the Gods forgive him, he welcomed their conquest.


End file.
